


Balance

by BookSpan808



Category: Bellevue (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drinking, F/M, Relationship Discussions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:07:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24027124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookSpan808/pseuds/BookSpan808
Summary: Peter checks on Annie at her father's fishing cabin. 1x06 canon-divergent one-shot where Annie never leaves the cabin for the woods. I own nothing.
Relationships: Annie Ryder/Peter Welland
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Balance

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy, let me know what you think!

Peter's head thunked against the headrest of his car, the dark ceiling of the van replacing his view of the dilapidated fishing cabin.

That damn fishing cabin. 

He hadn't been back to it in twenty years, not since Clarence's suicide. He hadn't planned to ever go back to it. Peter had been one of the first ones on the scene when his body was found, it wasn't a place he ever wanted to return to. There was nothing left for him there.

Annie, on the other hand, didn't seem to share the same mindset. 

He knew this was where she'd gone, although he had tried to convince himself otherwise. He'd looked all over town for her. The station, her place, Eddie's house. Even the parking lot of The Rattlesnake had gotten a once over. Riding by the dive bar slowly, Peter had half-hoped to find her fooling around in the parking lot, as she had often done when she was a teenager. Hanging off whatever loser she had chosen for the night, fumbling around in the bed of a rusted-out pickup truck. That was behavior he knew, a situation he was familiar with. He might have hated it, but at least he knew how to deal with it. God how he knew how to deal with it.

This was different.

Memories played through his mind, the black interior of his car acting as a movie screen. Annie at eight years old. Annie with scratch marks raked up and down her arms. Annie refusing to eat anything. Annie staring at him with dark, troubled eyes.

He didn't know how to help her back then, not really. A young cop, barely twenty-one years old, still reeling from the death of his mentor- the first person to ever truly believe he could make something of himself. Dead with a bullet through the head. He was in no position to help Annie, although he tried his best. And with time, she seemed to improve, the scars began to fade. Although they never entirely disappeared.

And now here they both were. Full circle.

"I knew she was here," Peter muttered into the silent car, "Of course she'd be here, even though I fucking wish she was anywhere else. I _told_ her it was a bad idea. But does she ever listen?"

With a gusty sigh he heaved the door open and stepped out, shutting it with more force than necessary. Snow crunched under his boots as he neared the cabin, light spilling out from underneath the door.

"Annie?" 

Pushing the front door open, the sight that greeted him wasn't a good one.

"Shit, Annie."

Peter's eyes slid from the overturned chairs to the broken picture frames to Annie sitting on a twin bed, her back propped up against the corner of the wall. The side of her mouth tipped up in a humorless smile. Her red-rimmed gaze was trained on him as her fingers clutched a half-full whiskey bottle. 

"Hey Peter," she greeted, lifting the bottle to her lips.

"What the hell is this?" Peter asked as he carefully stepped around the debris littering the wooden floor.

"What does it look like?" A defiant lift of her jaw punctuated her words.

Tossing an unimpressed look in her direction, he responded, "Do you really want me to answer that?"

Annie seemed to consider his words, watching him approach, "No. Not really."

Peter sunk down on the bed next to her and held out his left hand. Annie paused a few moments before stiffly handing him the whiskey. Raising the bottle up, Peter took several healthy swallows before passing it back to her so she could do the same.

"I'm sorry Annie, so so sorry."

Her body froze for a few moments before she sighed, all the fight going out of her. She rested her head on his shoulder, "I know you are Peter."

He wrapped his arm around her and gave her a gentle squeeze. 

"It's been a real shitty day," Annie took another slug of whiskey.

"Annie-"

"It isn't just about what happened with you Peter," she interrupted, "It was a lot of things."

They were quiet for several minutes before Annie spoke again.

"After we argued I went to the family barbecue."

Peter glanced at her, a crinkle formed between his eyebrows.

"Yeah, not one of my best ideas. I saw Daisy and Eddie...with Briana," she said, watching her fingers tap soundlessly on the bottle. "They looked so happy together- joking, laughing, smiling. I looked at them and thought, 'Where do I fit into the picture?' 

The bottle squeaked as she tightened her grip on it.

"And then it came to me. I didn't fit into the picture at all, I wasn't needed. Or wanted."

She tilted her head to look at him, a sad smile hovering on her lips.

"And what did I do, Peter, when I realized it? I did what I always do and pulled a Classic Annie Ryder. I caused a scene. Well, actually several scenes."

Lifting his hand to his face, Peter rubbed away a small smile that threatened to break through. The scenes Annie made as a teenager were legendary. He wasn't proud of it, but some of his fondest memories involved Annie telling Eddie to shove a variety of objects into certain personal areas.

"I said some awful awful things to Briana because I was hurt and embarrassed. And I triggered a fight between Brady and Eddie after that."

Annie shook her head when Peter looked down at her, eyebrows raised. That was something she didn't even want to begin to get into. There were fuck-ups and then there were _fuck-ups_.

"And what did it get me? A lovely view of Eddie and Daisy walking away with Briana. One big happy family. I left after that and came here to...shit I don't know. Think? Get away? Be alone? All three?"

His momentary amusement faded at the distress in her voice.

"You said a lot of things upset you," Peter watched her fidget with the bottle, "What else?"

She took a deep breath before slowly letting it out. "Eddie gave me a lecture on love. He said...he said Briana taught him that love doesn't have to be crazy and all-consuming; that you don't have to push people to prove that they love you. Love can be calm and comfortable. Safe. " Derision coated the last few words.

"You don't agree," Peter stated.

She shrugged, "I don't know anymore. When I was younger I thought love, especially romantic love, had to be passionate. Burning. You had to feel everything all the time, or else what was the point. Now? I don't know."

"It doesn't have to be one or the other."

"Hmmm?"

"Love. You can feel both types of love for one person," Peter told her as he turned to look at the curtain-covered window. "The first kind of love is so intense and frustrating, you'll want to rip your hair out and scream from the sheer sensation of it. It makes you do things, stupid things, you know you shouldn't do- because you love that person and you want to keep them with you always."

Slipping the whiskey out of her hand, he took a fortifying sip. Liquid courage was definitely necessary. 

"The second type of love is different, no less powerful though. It's like...a warm feeling when you look at them. It's being right next to them and knowing there isn't another place in the world you'd rather be. You feel comforted and safe by just being close to them. But the ultimate goal is to find a balance between the two. A balance between the calm and the crazy."

"Is that…" Annie trailed off, her teeth worrying her lower lip, "Is that how you feel Mother?"

Peter took another drink from the bottle, this one much longer than the last.

No, I never loved Lily."

"But-"

"I fucked up Annie. I fucked up something awful twenty years ago and I just...kept fucking up."

"When you say you 'kept fucking up,' it wasn't just that one time was it?"

Peter opened his mouth and then closed it before the words could escape him. For a split second he seriously considered lying to her, remembering her reaction earlier that day.

But then she looked at him, her brown eyes large and serious. He couldn't do that to her. Not again.

'No, it wasn't just the one time. But it's over now. I'm done with Lily and whatever the hell we were doing. It wasn't love and it certainly wasn't healthy."

"I think I'm done with Eddie, too."

A snort escaped Peter before he could stop it. The right side of her mouth tugged up in a crooked smile she couldn't hide.

"I'm serious," she said with a soft backhanded whack to his chest. "He said something the other day that got me thinking."

"Oh? What would that be?" 

"That I love him too much the way he is, instead of how he could be."

"Do you think he's right?"

She rested her head back on his shoulder.

"Yeah, I think he is. I love him, always will, but I'm not _in_ love with him anymore. I haven't wanted to admit that, even to myself."

She paused, her breathing slowing as she closed her eyes. 

"It scares me in some ways. Eddie has been such a big part of my life for so long, the thought that he wouldn't be anymore...it made me hold onto him when I should've been letting go. And I need to let go of Eddie and what we had. We always brought out the worst in each other and it's gotta stop. We need to be better, for ourselves and for Daisy."

Peter smiled softly at her, she was finally growing up. He leaned over and placed the near-empty whiskey bottle on the floor before carefully standing up. Pulling the blanket that was bunched at the bottom of the bed over Annie, he tucked it around her, watching as her eyelids fluttered open.

She grabbed his hand, looking at his face with unfocused, sleepy eyes.

"Stay with me?" 

Shifting over towards the wall, she gently tugged on him. Unable to deny her, he lied down next to her. Curling up, she burrowed into his side. 

"Thanks for being here, Peter. And thank you for listening,"

With feather-light strokes he brushed back the hair that had fallen into her face

"Anytime Annie."

~o~0~o~

When Peter woke up he noticed two things. One, the bed was damn uncomfortable to spend the night on. Two, Annie was asleep on top of him.

That was damn uncomfortable too, but for a different reason.

Her head and one hand rested on his chest, the other hand had burrowed underneath the pillow next to his head. Her legs were entangled with his own, upper body rising and falling as he breathed.

Well shit.

Placing his hands on her hips, Peter tried to gently roll her off him and onto her side without disturbing her too much. He gritted his teeth when her leg dragged over his morning erection.

Things were not going the way he intended. It seemed to be a common occurrence lately.

As he shifted under her, the movement stirred her into semi-wakefulness. 

Annie lifted her head and propped her hands on either side of his shoulders, looking down at him with eyes that were slowly becoming more awake.

And she kept staring at him, almost as if she had never seen him before. 

He stared back.

Not for the first time, Peter felt it. The balance between the two types of love he told her about last night. A swirling mass of love that drove you to the edge of sanity, and love that made you feel safe and needed.

She smiled down at him, tangled blonde hair framing her face. He reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind her left ear.

"I think I'm starting to understand what you mean- the balance."

Peter smiled back.


End file.
